35

Chapter Text

MON FEB 28

When I finished my weight training in the morning, I grabbed one of the Tupperware full of stew Dad' made last night instead of bothering to make something else for breakfast. He'd set them up to slow cook while he was out with the guys, so all we had to do was partition it up and then eat. They were mostly for lunches and leftovers, in addition to having been dinner last night, but there were enough spares and they reheated fine. It'd been our first meal back in the kitchen after everything was moved back into place, but dad and I were still tiptoe-ing around each other. We stuck to simple topics; work, school, my shoes wearing thin and little tweaks to maybe help them last longer next time... nearly inconsequential small talk, before I took the rest of my food up to my room while I looked over my homework again.

After breakfast, I threw on the second of the pairs of shoe-a-likes, and started my run to school. This was interrupted partway there by a phone call. My cape phone, from an unknown number. I was entirely unsurprised that it was Lisa.

"You utter bitch." She grumbled. It was only the lack of real heat to her tone that had me waiting until she continued. "Do you have any idea how bad Regent gets when he thinks he's being smug? I had a headache. I was stuck there. Helpless, at his mercy." She whined.

"I mean, he seemed like a bit of an ass, but I didn't think-"

"I had to sit through having a sex fiend lecture me on watersports for an hour because of you." She near-deadpanned venomously.

"Water-?" Oh, ewww. "Uch, that dick!"

"Don't you try to commiserate with me you bumbling thundercunt, I am the victim, here! You've ruined me, Taylor. Take some goddamned responsibility." Lisa spat.

My emotions and reactions were trying to pull me in so many directions at once I wound up blanking out, instead. "Wait, what?"

Lisa heaved a sigh. "I wish I didn't need you…" She muttered, before her voice picked up again. "Listen, I didn't tell my team about you. Now he knows, and the others will soon. This is weird and dangerous, they don't talk to the boss like I do, but he still might figure something out. Please stop stalking my team, and please, I know you don't like them, but please, please, please, stop shitting all over The Rules?"

She sounded… honestly scared. "I'm sorry." I murmured. I wasn't sorry that I knew where their base was, or that I'd seen Regent's face, but… I'd gone too far last night. By the time I'd realized, I'd already confronted him. I had to get a handle on this need to crack open other people's secrets. At first I'd thought Lisa was just trying to protect herself, but after Cass mirrored the warnings, and now with her pleading… "I'll… try to be less stupid."

There were a few beats of silence, before Lisa sighed again. "You're not stupid, when you think. You're just… impatient and impulsive." I could hear her toning her choice of words down, so they wouldn't be as insulting. "Just… leave the Undersiders to me, for now? It's a… delicate situation."

"We're going to need to start working together eventually, it's kind of the whole point of teaming up for something." Even if we didn't stay teammates after Coil was gone. "But… I might not need to talk to them, to work with you. Not yet, like you said. We need to start planning though, and that means we need to know what the other can do, and bring to the table." Not everything, but enough… "And… I can't trust doing that over the phone."

A pause, before a sound of realization came over the line. "Your power doesn't work over the phone, I get it." I growled at her. "No, no! Me scary tricksy villain, I get it. You don't trust me, and I wouldn't trust you if my power didn't have such a good bead on you. Your powers, not so much, but you I barely need mine for."

I hated the neander-talk, her tone, and... there was something about being easy to read that stuck me the wrong way. I hated being played, and feeling like an easy mark. "Sorry for being predictable, I guess." I stopped and huffed out some of my frustration. Grousing at her wasn't going to do any good here. "Sorry, I just... don't like secrets. I hate hiding things, and..." Manipulating people. I didn't want to feel like I was using the rest of the Undersiders, by not telling them what was up. ...granted, I hadn't thought of that last night with Regent, I was just bulling ahead trying to get what I wanted then. I didn't say it, though. I figured Lisa would probably pick up on it anyway, but I didn't feel like admitting to anything more I'd messed up on, right now. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

There were a few low noises from her that the phone barely picked up. I could tell she was thinking, and considering what I'd said. She was almost certainly picking apart every word with her power, piecing together everything I hadn't said. The silence drew on almost to the point of frustration. "Well, you do owe me an hour of my life, back..." I scoffed, and she chuckled, the tone turning dark near the end. "Regent keeps doing this bullshit, when he thinks he can get away with it, and he's in the mood to torment me. The last time, he knew I had a migraine, so he made sure the girl he dragged back to the loft was a screamer..." She went on for a while, complaining about this and that thing he'd done. About how lazy he was, his fixations on video games and whatever else caught his fancy to the detriment of actually being anything close to a decent flatmate. Pretty early into it, I decided to pick my walk up to a jog to make sure I could get to school on time.

I asked why she put up with it, if she had her own place. I didn't let on that, barring powers, the situation didn't seem that bad. Even taking them into account, having to sit through having gross information shoved into her brain for an hour didn't sound too different from the times I'd been ambushed at lunch or after class, back at Winslow. The headaches made it a lot worse, but I was having trouble empathizing, since I didn't get migraines. She picked up on this of course, but that just darkened her tone and deepened her explanations in response. Her answer was simple though, the loft was a lot safer from her boss. He couldn't just send goons in to tap the place whenever he wanted, since there were usually at least two people around. So she kept most of her stuff there, which made it a better place to plan, and gave her some backup if she needed it.

The only person she'd really need it against was her boss, who could just call her in if he wanted anything, but I could understand the principle of it. Better the threat you could see and plan for, rather than the one snatching you out of your bed for an impromptu 'debriefing'.

She went on about her other teammates, too. Grue had his own apartment to sleep at, and spent at least a few hours a couple days a week padding time at his 'fake' civilian job, generating a paper trail for CPS to find when they came looking. He still checked in fairly often between that, wrangling his hellion of a sister, and doing odd jobs passed to him through Lisa; trying to at least make a meal at the loft every day or two. He felt he had to try and bond with Regent, and hold up going through the motions of maintaining dominance in the group, to keep Bitch in line.

Bitch, as I'd found out, was not nearly as sweet and caring as I'd hoped from prior descriptions. What time she spent at their base had more to do with pack dynamics than any real desire for a soft bed or a kitchen to cook hot food in. You couldn't make a play for 'top dog' if you weren't there, and you couldn't pitch in for emergencies if you were halfway across town. She also preferred to stick around to get her marching orders in person, rather than over the phone. Bitch had phones and used them when there wasn't any other option, but with even fewer social cues for her 'dog brain' -Lisa's words, when I'd asked- to latch onto, she hated trying to communicate that way. Nor did she like not being close enough to maul you, if she thought you were insulting her. That certainly didn't help my image of her, any. The rest of her time was spent at her makeshift kennels. Feeding, cleaning, retraining... she really didn't seem to enjoy anything else.

My normal 40-ish minute run to school was extended to almost ninety from my slower pace. I'd need to skip second breakfast and would only have time for a quick five-minute scrub-rinse instead of my normal quick locker room showers. I'm pretty sure Lisa got all of that from my brief 'I'm at school now, I'll talk to you later.' Still, she let me go without too much fuss.

---

When lunch rolled around, the usual suspects found themselves in their familiar places. Tracy was stalling to eat the lunch she'd packed for herself alone, Cassie was sitting with some of the Medhall kids again, and the Dallons were already through the line and claiming their tables. I considered sitting with them, but by the time I was through the line, they'd been swarmed by chattering socialites. Even the seat Amy usually tried to save for me was taken.

This lead me to casting my eyes around for somewhere else to sit. I spied a few familiar faces, and headed for a half-full table. Millie and Abby from Friday practice were on one side, Susan and an older boy I'd seen around but not interacted with on the other. As I closed in, Susan noticed and met my eyes, nodding my way. "Hey-" I started.

"Oh, you're a cute one, ain't'cha?" The boy asked merrily with a hint of an accent I couldn't place. It certainly wasn't the Boston drawl a solid third of Brockton natives had. He'd seen Susan, glanced behind him, spouted the line, and now he was grinning toothily. His cream-colored teeth were mostly straight. His lighter skin left a dusting of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His light brown hair was short, but still curly. The smile was, if anything, brighter in his eyes. A dull green just a shade brighter than Dad's.

He was absolutely perfect.

A cold shard stabbing through my heart insisted I hate him unconditionally.

"Er, I, uh…" I stuttered, shy and fearful.

"Oh! You're the girl from that Friday thing, right?" I didn't think he'd shown up, I would've remembered it. Maybe I'd been pointed out to him? He was sitting with three girls who attended, after all. "I'm busy Fridays, but I've heard good things. Extracurriculars are important for finding your niche in a new school, you look to be in with both feet, already. Where'd you hail from, anyway? Central? West-side?" Oh god, he was asking about my old school. "…Clarendon?" Don't mention Winslow. "…Immaculata?" Don't mention Winslow. "…St. Michael's?" He glanced back at Susan, who gave a tiny shake of her head. "Uh, any hobbies 'sides hittin' folk?"

I didn't want to seem like the quiet, creepy girl I'd been shaped into at my old school, and this was a much less dangerous topic. "I like… reading?" I kept saying that, but I hadn't seriously made time for it all month, it felt less and less true anymore every time I said it. Maybe I should take a day next week to rip through a few books on my list.

He didn't seem to know what to do with how introspective I'd gotten after answering. "I…" He looked back at Susan, whose lips thinned and shoulder twitched. "…think maybe I should go. Talk to you later?" He got up, leaving my eyes trailing down his denim jacket, salmon pink shirt, and khaki pants.

A miserable noise burbled up from the back of my throat. "Are you okay?" Abby asked, now that she didn't feel like she might be interrupting someone else.

Susan scoffed. "Sit." She commanded, and I took the recently vacated place at her side. "The hell?" She asked in the same tone.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to run him off, I'm just… not good with… the flirting." I finally managed.

They all stared at me. Abby had a look of slowly dawning horror, Millie stifled a snort and immediately looked shameful about laughing at my expense, and for the first time since we'd met, Susan looked honestly confused. "He wasn't flirting." She stated a moment later.

"But…" I muttered.

She shook her head. "His name is Jeff Ferguson, and he is easily the most openly gay boy still at Arcadia."

"Oh." That explained their reactions, I guess. "So, he was just… being nice?"

"Yup." She said with a nod. "He's always been a social person. He was the head of the LGBT support club last year. Then their roster leaked, and a third of their members were hospitalized over the course of a week. The school shut them down 'for their safety' after that. Apparently it keeps happening every five years or so, once the students forget and start meeting even when the school tells them it's a bad idea. Now the girls all flock to Kara's group, and the boys stick it out in the closet until they can move away." She affected a mildly irritated shrug. "Sucks, but that's Brockton for you."

That sounded like something I'd expect more from Winslow than Arcadia. The corruption there was bleeding from the walls, you could no more ignore it than you could fix it. It had me wondering if Arcadia really was too good to be true, and just hid its corruption better. Also, wondering why he'd been sitting with them. "What about you?"

She gave me a darkly deadpan stare, and I realized the question was actually pretty rude. "I'm asexual." She answered anyway, turning her attention back to her food, continuing through a half-full bite. "Or near enough the distinction is semantic. I don't plan to date until college, either way."

I winced. "Ahh, sorry." She just kept chewing angrily. A bit desperate to change the subject, my mind drifted to the crowd that was still churning around Vicky's table. "So, what's with everyone today?" She glanced my way, quirking an eyebrow. The other two stalled their hushed murmuring. "Everyone's… energetic? I usually sit with Amy, but they're all crowded over. It's not just them, either. What's up?"

From the way she stared at me for a few moments, I could tell this was one of those social things I should've known already, if not for Winslow. Eventually she shrugged. "Simurgh parties." Abby flinched hard, and Millie briefly snapped at Susan. "What? You know I'm not wrong." She shot back, then turned fully to me. "Every time there's an Endbringer attack, especially the Simurgh, everyone gets terrified. Then a day or two later their emotions snap back the other way, relieved it isn't them, happy they're alive, distracting themselves from the fact that another city's getting new walls…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Point is, weekend after an attack, there's always an upswing in the number of parties going on, with everyone wanting to use up all that energy, or fulfill that primal need to feel alive after a tragedy. There is a statistically significant increase in the number of new pregnancies recorded three to six weeks after every attack."

Ugh. I really didn't want to think of my classmates getting knocked up, but from where my question started, that's straight where my brain took that factoid. Now that I thought about it, Dad had gone out with Mark and… Neil? Dad went out with Dad Wave over the weekend, both that Saturday meetup, and drinking with the dockworkers yesterday. I'd assumed he was still coming down off the stress of me heading to Australia, but if everyone was doing it? Drinking with buddies was how adults partied, right?

Don't think about swinger parties, Taylor. Don't think about how mom was definitely bi, and dad is incredibly chill about sex things like me being on the pill. Don't think about-

Aaaand now I'm screaming internally.

"So, that's why?" I prompted, trying to fill my brain with anything else.

Susan nodded. "Most people were partying all weekend, so now they're excited to chat about their partying. It'll die down by Wednesday, if not tomorrow."

"And I guess you didn't bother?"

She shrugged. "Work and cheer practice all weekend."

"I don't… get invited to parties." Abby added.

"My… I didn't…" Millie tried.

"Parents?" Susan asked, and got a nod. "She's a Medhall kid, her folks drag her around. They probably stuck her at the kiddy table at some quiet semi-corporate shindig, again." Millie was quiet, shrinking in on herself again, but she nodded.

"Ah. I'm sorry." I could only imagine those, since neither of my parents brought me to anything like that. Mom probably hated whatever she'd have to do with Gram when she was younger, and intentionally avoided it with me. "So, you work?" I asked Susan.

"I'm a librarian." She said with a shrug.

I couldn't help the unladylike snort of both amusement and amazement. "What?"

She shrugged again, smirking this time. "Well, when you spend a couple years pulling your weight volunteering, a good boss will find a way to pay you for it. Started out at the public library, then I started cheer practice for an extracurricular that also counted as sports, so I didn't need the volunteering for my transcripts. Managed to get an internship at the university library to have an in, there. Couple years of that, and they bumped me and another intern to paid when someone quit." She leaned over, a tad conspiratorially, though her tone didn't reflect it. "He was black, and finally got that job at Northeast he wanted, in Boston." She shifted back and started picking at her food again. "Can't blame him, wanting out. Anyway, I work mornings on the weekend, study Saturday, cheer practice Sunday. A-squad has Saturdays, and I show up for that sometimes if I'm caught up. B-squad's nice. No away games, no flouncing in miniskirts for the crowd unless someone breaks a leg, but I'm still on the team as far as the papers care."

I shuddered. "I don't think I could stand the outfits at all, let alone in public."

She glanced my way, eyes briefly raking down. "You don't look bad. Not being top-heavy can be a good thing, especially for a couple spots in formation. Good center-mass is more important."

This time it was her cold analysis and curt dismissal of my body issues that set me off. I couldn't help feeling a little envious that she didn't seem to have those issues. On the other hand, it was uncanny to the point of revulsion. "What about you two? Any sports or clubs?" I asked to change the subject, and actually started properly digging into my lunch. I knew what classes they liked, and that Abby liked to draw, but I couldn't recall whether they were in any clubs.

It turned out, other than mine, not really. Millie liked music, and was considering band or choir, or one of the related clubs. Abby was still waffling on whether to pursue her art or not, but thought a club might be a decent way to progress, if she could actually get over the related social anxieties. Susan said she didn't want to commit any more of her free time to an actual club, but might've gone with a political one if she had free weekends to fall back on.

I asked about it, but Millie whined her name and stopped her. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, saying she'd spare me 'the rant' today, which put the other girls more at ease. I got the feeling she'd pushed people away with it before, whatever it was about. Either way, lunch was close enough to up, so we split up to get ready for our next classes.

---

I hadn't left the building yet when I got a text from Kara. 'Need a fvr. Meet rm 112?' It took me a moment to recall where that was, around the middle of the right side of the 'H' the building made from the air, on the ground floor. Flanked on one side by the administrative wing, and the other by the dedicated 'Sophomore wing' of the first floor, from what spilled down from not fitting on the second. This struck me as a tad odd, since I was pretty sure she was a Junior, and their classes were all on the second floor.

Still, she hadn't done anything to warrant undue paranoia since our... fight? Argument? Either way, it wasn't like she could spring an ambush I wouldn't see coming. I decided to go, making my way back in and basically just taking a right to head straight there. There were four girls in the room; Kara, Mandy, the little one whose name started with a 'T', and another I didn't recognize at all until I actually saw her.

When I came in, their little huddle turned my way, and I recognized her from the cafe when Kara and I had our talk. I pointed at her, my mouth hanging open and my face scrunched in a grimace as I tried to place her name. "Julia." She stated.

"Thank you." I replied, then pointed at the other two with Kara. "Tina," I'd recognized her purple hair. She nodded seriously at her name. "and Mandy." She just looked amused. I turned to Kara. "Okay, so, what's up?"

She winced, glancing at the others and fidgeting with her unlit phone for a moment. "You know Tracy Stover, right?"

"Yeeeah?" I drew the word out, trying to ponder what this could be about. Nothing weird seemed to be going on with her patterns, today. "Did something happen?"

"We had plans today, and she canceled." She shook her head. "That's not weird, but she's skipping out on everything these days, which is. We were supposed to meet here, but Tiff said her car was already gone when I asked." She hunched sadly, and the others shifted like they wanted to close ranks around her. "She has somewhere to be in a hurry after school, but won't talk about what it is. I don't think it's drugs or the gangs, we'd know if she was dating someone from Arcadia, and we've got feelers deep enough in most of the other schools that I'm pretty sure that's not what's going on. Unless it's someone older, that might be taking advantage of her again..." She muttered the last part quietly, then shook her head, hugging her arms to herself. "I just worry, then I hover, then I get all..." She spread her arms and waggled her fingers, biting her lip as she struggled to find the words.

"Helicopter mom~." Mandy sang with a grin.

Kara let out an indignant, grumpy huff at what seemed like an in-joke. The others chuckled, but I didn't get it beyond recognizing the stereotype and that it kind of fit her. It all sounded okay, wanting to check up on a friend and all, but... "Why me?" That cut off the smirking- Mandy and Julia- and tittering- Tina- at Kara's expense, as all four turned their attention back to me. "It's great you want to look out for her, and you've known her longer so I'm not going to comment on any potential smothering right now, but... why ask me in particular to do this?"

She hummed thoughtfully, then gave me a more serious look. "It's because I do have to ask, with you." She waved off my immediate question before I could utter it. "With groups as tight-knit as ours, with stakes as serious as we deal with, sometimes 'requests' aren't refused on principle. We do whatever we can to help each other, and me asking anyone else? They'd do it, and they'd check on her again, and she'd say she's fine, again. I don't want to push her away with the same people that always ask, using the same tactics they always do, which aren't working here." She waved in my direction. "You, are really dense about a lot of things," I whined out a short denial. "but you're weirdly perceptive in others. I'm hoping you'll think of something to say that'll actually get through to her." She fidgeted, looking as nervous as she felt. "Part two of the problem being that she lives really deep in Empire territory, and I can only ask Mandy to risk so many knife fights, a month."

I thought she was joking, but Mandy shrugged, crossing her arms under her chest, and I noticed several thin scars on her forearms now that I was looking for them. Huh.

"You," Kara continued, "don't look too much like a dyke, and can take care of yourself." I took offense to the first part of that, but didn't react beyond bristling at the words. "I could send someone with you if you don't feel safe, but that'd send the wrong message to Tracy, or if you're actually noticed by the 'neighborhood watch'. The Empire's shit, but white girls usually get a few warnings before anything happens to them."

I pondered the points, thinking back to the goons I'd taken down the other day. Would they have gotten word to the rest of their gang, yet? I mean, I expected them to eventually, but it'd only been a couple days. I was almost certainly fine, on that front. This would also give me a good excuse to press on the odd behaviors and emotions I'd noticed from her. She reminded me of myself, back at Winslow. Always alone, though by choice in her case. What would make her choose social isolation and push other people away? If I found some other version of me, wouldn't I want to be helped? Could I forgive myself for not making every attempt possible? In the end, that's what decided it for me. "Fine, I'll check up on her. What do you want me to do?"

Kara brightened at my acquiescence. "Great! I'll text you her address." She took out her phone and spent half a minute typing on it, before mine dinged. I checked it, finding a number on a street that sounded vaguely familiar, and a bus stop that I assumed would be the nearest one to it if I checked. "Text me if she isn't home?"

I slid it back into its pocket and nodded. "I can do that."

"Thank you." She started toward me, arms raising from her sides. I was already shifting my weight back when I realized she was coming in for a hug. She stopped, her arms dropping again. Her smile was a bit more brittle, and there was a softness in her eyes I was starting to suspect was pity. Her emotions were a mix of grateful joy, a hint of what might be pride, and a few varieties of sadness. "Thank you, I owe you for this, okay?"

The other girls didn't seem to like that. Mandy was the least upset, having gone back to silently assessing me. I felt like she had some sort of approval or camaraderie towards me, which had grown stronger when I'd unconsciously reacted. I hated it. The flinching, the insidious thoughts, the conditioning. That's what she saw. I was damaged goods; I knew it, and I hated it. Just like them.

I didn't get anything as significant from the others. If I had to guess, Julia just didn't like owing favors and her displeasure went no deeper than that. Tina had more of an actual reason to be mad about it, she looked up to Kara. I could tell she was attracted to her, probably had a crush, and seemed viciously defensive of her to the point of glaring at me.

It made me think of those little yappy dogs that kept barking at things they couldn't possibly take in an actual fight, but still did it anyway. She was only a year behind me, but she was so small she looked younger, which made the fanatic devotion seem a lot cuter than it really should be.

I closed my eyes and sighed a little. I hated social politicking. "Sure." I decided to give her this, and ignore what her girls thought for now. They'd get over it. "I'll talk to you later?"

She nodded, so I waved and left. They had a hushed conversation while I made my way back through the halls. Tina and Julia were still agitated, but Kara shone like a bright beacon of joy and hope until she briefly flashed indignant rage, punctuated by sharp words I couldn't hear, and cowing them. Mandy felt disappointed, and appeared to be backing her girlfriend. After that, moods shifted more positively. I imagined they were turning the topics back to whatever plans they'd had before Tracy canceled on them, prompting that meeting in the first place. I walked to the bus stop, and watched them wander out to the parking lot and into a car.

I got a text from Amy, but turned down her offer to hang out since we had the whole spa day coming up for that, whenever that was happening. Then I was on the bus, losing track of everyone I'd been tracking through the city, wondering what I was actually going to say, if Tracy was home.